Your opinion of me DOESNT define who I AM.

"Don't be silly," he told me. "You're going to be feeling it a lot more intimately that that so it makes sense to explore it. Go ahead. I won't mind." Oh, wouldn't he? Well, I certainly would. I might have to hold it but I certainly wasn't going to explore it. He didn't have the same inhibitions where my body was concerned. His hands and mouth were all over me. I don't mean he was touching my breasts and my pussy, which he was, but he was touching and tasting everywhere else, too. My face, my neck, my tummy, my back -- everywhere he could reach he was touching and tasting. He was succeeding in arousing me, too. I was hot, feeling gooey and squirmy inside, wanting something but not quite knowing what. Well, that's not quite true 

. I knew what I wanted; I just wasn't willing to admit it. "Damn it, Trixie," Mr Ogilvie gasped. "Do that again and I won't be responsible for what happens." I looked at him blankly, trying to work out what the hell he meant. What was I doing? Then it registered that my hand on his erection had shifted slightly. Quite a bit actually. Thinking back I realised that I'd just dragged my fingernails across the ball at the top of his cock, whatever you call it. Not scratching him, but just dragging the nails lightly across. "What? Do you mean this?" I asked curiously, repeating that little stunt. Well, really, there was no need to call me a nasty name, although his voice did sound a little strained. I didn't get to do it a third time as he was busy kicking my legs out from under me. I finished up flat on the floor, looking up at him as he loomed over me. I'd even lost my grip on his erection. Not that that seemed to be worrying him. "Warned you," he said calmly, and that's when I knew that this was it. He was really going to do it to me. He pushed my legs a little further apart and then leaned closer to me. As he came closer I could feel his erection pressing against me, wanting to come inside me. I wanted to scream a protest. I also wanted him to hurry up and do it. The conflicting feelings left me lying there, looking at his cock as it started its dastardly work. Just like that he wasn't pushing against me but into me. My silence lasting up until he popped my cherry and the yowl of pain echoed. "You rotten pig," I railed. "That hurt." "Not me, it didn't," he pointed out, "and you'll soon forget it." He was right about that last bit. His cock was still going into me and it felt incredible. I was now making a sound something like wo-oh-oh as he went deeper, my voice increasing in pitch as he filled me. His groin finally mashed against mine and he was laughing at me, apparently amused by my surprise. Fine for him, he'd done this sort of thing before. I hadn't. That's when I wondered

. Did he often take advantage of the females students? It wasn't as though I lay there wondering as he was certainly taking full advantage of me now that he'd started. His hands were playing with my breasts, which was nice, but his cock started doing some deep work, which was beyond description and driving me insane. He was pushing in and pulling back, the feeling of his cock scraping against my passage doing strange things. After doing this for a few moments he stopped, surprising me. "You are allowed to move, you know," he gently suggested, "as in acting like a genuine woman, instead of a blow-up doll. Try pushing up to meet me when I press against you." Pressing against me? Was that what he called it? I could have pointed out that he was poking me with something that had the same size and hardness as a cop's baton but I refrained, being politely brought up. I did start lifting my hips and pushing against him when he restarted his fun. That certainly changed thing, and for the better I might add. All those lovely sensations that he'd been raising doubled and re-doubled, and I was giving little squeaks of equal parts shock and pleasure. As he continued on his merry way the shock decreased but the pleasure certainly didn't. I was quite happy with the way things were going but it seemed Mr Ogilvie wasn't. He upped the tempo and I had to hump to keep up with me. Even while I was being bounced under him I had the feeling that he was laughing at me, enjoying my reaction as much as what he was doing. I settled down to the faster pace, breathing heavily, but keeping with him. "More," he asked after a while, and I foolishly assumed he wanted to know whether he should stop or keep going. I nodded yes for more. He should have asked faster, because that's what did. Go faster, I mean. He was pounding into me at a great rate and I totally lost any semblance of control I might have had. My body was now moving of its own accord with me a helpless passenger, totally at the mercy of his cock and my own eager passion. I didn't even realise what was happening when I started to feel even funnier and when I climaxed it took me completely by surprise. From Mr Ogilvie's reaction my surprised scream also took him completely by surprise and he very hurriedly slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle me. At the same time he seemed to give a sudden harder thrust into me and then he was jerking rapidly, and I could feel him spilling inside me. He lay on me, pressing me against the floor. "That painting is a lie," he told me. "You're not peace and harmony. You're fire and passion. I look forward to seeing your next painting." My next painting

. I had an artist's eye for detail plus the required imagination to fill in any missing details. I was already planning my next painting. A nude I decided, although I'd better not paint him with an erection. I pushed him off me, noticing that he was half flaccid. Yes, that would be acceptable. I wondered how he'd like the fire and the passion I would show.